Now: January, 2005 and A Bolt of Energy It's been three years since my diagnosis and two years since I wrote the first version of this book. In the story that follows, I'll ask you to tag along for quick tales about the many paths I've been taking. I sought and soaked up Christian prayer, although I don't believe in Christianity. I set aside skepticism and cavalier attitudes to dabble in what I previously thought of as New Age hooey. I became a nut about loving a dog. And more. And, you know what, here I sit in 2005 and the simple clarity of connectedness in all of this just hit me: It's all about some sort of energy.

Uh oh, you might be thinking: "Hooey!". I certainly thought this about anything unexplainable in this realm for many years. But I've been rocked by something for three years now, and energy is the best word I can conjure to describe it. So, I suggest that you consider the concept of energy from all around, energy inside you and others, and perhaps energy from divine forces when reading these chapters. And then ask yourself about the concept of tapping energy sources like this for your own benefit. I've actually seen this energy. A master of the revered Chinese medical practice of Qi Gong, Chunyi Lin, recently showed me how to see the energy beaming from my fingertips, and even how to get the mind to give that energy its marching orders.

A friend wrote me long ago: "I didn’t develop the toughies for nothing. They make sure I am firmly planted on the ground, even when I’m far away." I've twisted these funny words into a new metaphor for my journey. They say it all about connectedness. Stand tough while sifting through the cacophonous energy whirling about to find the rewarding beams. If you have any "far away" distance of head and heart, pull those energy forces together and become centered. But have big shoulders in this task, because there will be thumping leading to slumping along the way. This is my quest.

Briefly, here are highlights from the 20 months since publication of the first book:

• My health is stable. I get Lupron shots that shut down testosterone four times a year because this hormone fuels prostate cancer cells. During times of stress my cancer cell activity spikes, so I’ve become a rabid pursuer of a stress free life. This is one of the reasons I find myself back in the corporate world rather than the brain-boiling world of new media entrepreneurs. The noticeable side effect of Lupron is a propensity for hot flashes. I've turned these burning moments into a joke at Best Buy, where I work with an amazing team of much younger colleagues. When I sit there flushed and sweating I tell them I'm dreaming of knitting. The longterm side effect of Lupron therapy is osteoporosis. This is why I continue to tread down both the paths of traditional medicine and those trodden by other cultures in search of a way to kill my remaining cancer.

• Friends and media colleagues urged me to do more with themes from my first book, so I established the non-profit MansGland Campaign. It's an experiment to see if trying to make the prostate funny via PG-13 funny pictures and a comedy call-in phone service can help with a basic problem in men’s health, especially for men under 50 who are years away from the dangerous prostate health years. The problem is ignorance of the function of the prostate. The campaign has received extensive national publicity, and rewardingly, other non-profits are adopting our materials for their own campaigns. Next, I'm expecting a national ad agency and university health communications research institute to take over the idea for a professional campaign.

• The campaign also has stirred debate – which is good. For example, a prominent financier starting a media company said that only fear would work in approaching men about prostate health. A retired advertising executive said that only very simple and straightforward key messages would work. I couldn’t disagree with both chaps more. But again, if my experiments spur this kind of debate among audiences, this is progress.

• I don't like the notion behind the phrase "publicity hound". However, in my campaign work, it's clear the media today is focused on "reality", and is seeking sources who will speak from the heart about guy issues. Recently (Jan. 2005), both the Los Angles Times and Time magazine have profiled and pictured me about parts of my quest. The Times piece even includes an embarrassing 3-column "Richard Avedon" style photo of me and my dog Morrie. And last year, two syndicated features on the campaign ran in more than 300 newspapers. As a result, I've started to get calls from strangers, mostly women asking me to talk to their husbands who are newly diagnosed with prostate cancer. I'm happy to make these calls. They range from frustrating with men clearly curled up inside their cement skulls, to uplifting when I talk to men who are eager to soak up my advice about hanging it all out there and trying everything.

With the publicity, loose strands from the past are becoming retied. An episcopal priest I had long ago lost touch with preached a sermon on the 25th anniversary of his ordination and talked about his friend Kim Garretson throwing a big party with a belly dancer that day. Then he went to a cafe, flipped open a magazine, and I reappeared. Other long lost friends also have begun reappearing in my email box.

• Speaking of strangers, I did question myself when starting this new version about why strangers might read a book -- in this initial online "blog" format -- about another stranger. That question actually forms the experiment around this site. If you visit my Emerging Media Audiences site, you'll learn why blogs intrigue me (more below). Since blogs are rather new, and often are just journals of strangers' daily lives, I decided to experiment with a twist on daily journaling: repurposing a previously told story via a published book with constant updates as I set about on some of the quests I promised to take in the book. After all, as author Lillian Hellman said: "Nothing you write, if you hope to be good, will ever come out as you first hoped." Early results are encouraging. When I lead guys to this manuscript my only advice is to simply read it as a primer for opening the mind and trying a lot of things while also working on treasuring the right things, current and past. So far, this audience seems receptive to this mission herein.

Also, in my strategic development role at Best Buy, we are exploring related themes to what you'll find here, the increasing "connectedness" of people via technology. We're calling it The Connected Life.

• As a 30-year veteran of the media industry, from all sides including editorial, advertising, public relations and new media, I have begun to track and experiment with trends pointing to future problems for media companies in terms of attracting and keeping profitable audiences. These audiences increasingly are connected via technology to personal networks of friends, family and colleagues. And within these networks, the creation and sharing of information is beginning to supplant time normally spent consuming media companies’ products. That could quicken an alarming trend: men who don't read enough media content about their own health.

• Perhaps some solutions to these problems will come from innovations at journalism schools. I've started to work with students and faculty at the University of Minnesota, Northwestern's Medill school and my alma mater, the University of Missouri on audience trends. In fact, with the University of Missouri, I'm researching a book about the decade ahead for the media industry, with my class of 1973 as the focus.

• As you'll read throughout this book, when you go out and seek connectedness, prepare to be stunned. For instance, I only recently learned that at the place where I got a "D" in my first writing class, the University of Missouri, the luminary dean of the J-school, Dean Mills, and his wonderful wife Sue, are from my tiny, rural hometown of Mt. Pleasant, Iowa. We recently compared notes on the influence of six teachers we all had in common in high school. As I've been talking to friends, old and new, about connectedness, sometimes the word "coincidence" creeps into the conversation. I used to buy that concept. Now I don't. Here's what Arthur Koestler had to say: "Coincidences are puns of destiny...two strings of thought are tangled into one acoustic knot...two strings of events are knitted together by invisible hands."

But, whoa there, you might think? Upfront I promised to be a Regular Guy who is not going to go blathery on you about wacko stuff, so I will occasionally prod my own words. I had to chuckle at all my connectedness content herein when reading a review of a fellow Minnesotan's work by writer April Fleming in the Kansas City alternative weekly newspaper Pitch: "Some may find this presentation a little heavy on the lovey, interconnectedness stuff, but it's less invasive than a ginger-root enema, albeit likely to prompt a few patchouli-tinged hugs."  ¶ 1:58 PM